


The Kidnapping of Molly Hooper

by MissErikaCourt



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 10:59:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8099611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissErikaCourt/pseuds/MissErikaCourt
Summary: Molly stayed late to work on a case for Sherlock, but she didn't expect that she would be drugged and kidnapped by none other than Jim Moriarty





	

“Oh, Molly Hooper, fancy meeting you here.” His cold voice cut through her foggy mind as her eyes opened slightly. She recognized the slight Irish accent to be Jim Moriarty, someone she never thought she would see again. “It's about time you woke up.”

“J-Jim...” She stammered, trying to focus her vision on the man standing in front of her. He wore a well-tailored gray suit and a tie, his hands shoved into his pockets, a wicked smile playing across his face. Light poured in from the hallway behind him as he stood in the open door. “What's going on?” She tried to move her hands to her throbbing head but realized she was restrained.

“Ah, you've noticed that, have you? Well, it was simply a precaution. Can't have you running off now, can we?”

“Where am I?” She couldn't organize her thoughts. To be quite honest she couldn't even remember anything past leaving work yesterday evening. She'd stayed later than normal trying to get everything in order for Sherlock to come in the next morning. He'd been working on a tough case and she was just trying to make things easier on him. It was dark by the time she'd left the office, but somehow she couldn't remember exiting the front door of Bart's.

“Telling you that would spoil all the fun.” He cooed, and she heard amusement in his voice.

“Did...did you do this?”

“Well, I think that's rather obvious.”

“Why?” She was completely dumbfounded. She didn't understand why he would kidnap her, why he was being so cold and uncaring. She'd only just gone out to lunch with him the other day, and it seemed like they were really hitting it off. When he didn't call her back for two days, she assumed he was just busy with work.

“Well, for a little fun I suppose.” He said, that wicked smile still on his face. She shuddered at the thought of what that might mean. “Oh, don't worry, I haven't done anything to you besides sedate you and tie you up there. I wouldn't dream of touching you inappropriately. That is, unless you really want me to.”

“Stay away!” She shouted, curling herself into a ball. The ropes that bound her hands and feet made it hard to move, but she managed to guard herself well enough.

“Molly, just relax. I really am quite fond of you, and now I know that I'm not the only one.” He said with sort of a giggle. “I'll let you go eventually, once I've accomplished what I set out to do when I snagged you in the first place. He should be realizing about now that you're missing. He usually comes in to see you at around noon every day, correct?”

“I don't understand...”

“Oh, I thought you were a bit sharper than that. Sherlock Holmes. The consulting detective that you seem to be madly in love with. He comes to see you at noon in the morgue, every day, right?”

“I suppose so.”

“Well then, this is all going to work out splendidly. He'll find the little note that I left for him, and I'm sure it will take him no time at all to decipher the clue.”

“Why? Why would you take me to get to Sherlock?”

“God, you really are dense aren't you?” He said, rolling his eyes and sauntering toward her. He crouched down in front of her and grabbed her chin to make her look at him. She fought to turn away, but his vice like grip was too much. “Sherlock Holmes cares a great deal for you. Anyone with eyes can see that. You know, when he's talking to people, when he thinks you can't hear him, he calls you _his_ pathologist. He talks about you near constantly. That was a mistake on his part.”

“What are you trying to do?” She asked, starting to fear for her life. Clearly he'd taken her to make Sherlock come here without thinking. If he wasn't prepared to hurt her, he probably wouldn't be doing this.

“Kill Sherlock Holmes, of course.” He smiled, releasing my face and standing up to straighten his suit.

“What?” She asked, her eyes beginning to fill with tears.

“Are you deaf as well as dumb?” He asked, bending over a bit and cupping his hands around his mouth. “I'M GOING TO KILL HIM.” He said loudly, as if she really hadn't heard him the first time he spoke. Her question was more out of shock than anything else.

“I don't understand...”

“Let me explain this for you very simply, since I've grossly overestimated your intelligence. Sherlock's case, the one you've been helping him with, the one that he just can't seem to solve. Who do you think is the villain there?” He asked. When she didn't answer he pointed both of his thumbs toward himself and shrugged. “All those people that have died, it was by my hand. All the clues that he just can't seem to make heads or tails of, left by me. I've been outsmarting the world's 'greatest detective' for nearly two weeks now. Seems like he's not that great after all.”

“Please...don't hurt him...he hasn't done anything to you. I'll...I'll convince him to drop the case. I'll tell him that Lestrade has caught the perpetrator. Anything you want, just leave him alone.” She begged, a tear running down her cheek.

“Oh, Molly dear, don't cry. If it's any consolation, his death will be quick. I never did like to torture people. Too messy. I ruined one too man expensive suits doing that.” He laughed as if it were a normal thing to say. “You just sit tight and wait for your hero to come to the rescue. And if you say a word to him to tip him off, I'll kill you.” He smiled before turning toward the heavy steel door that shut off the room she was in from everything else. “Ta, love. And remember, not a peep.”

The door shut with a loud bang and she found herself alone in the complete darkness. There were no windows in the room she was in, no light source as far as she could tell. There was only her and the ropes he'd used to bind her. She let out a soft sob as she realized how grave her situation really was. To think that she might be responsible for Sherlock's death...it was too much for her to think about. She had to find some way to warn him about what was happening. Surely he'd figured it out by now. Surely he wouldn't fall into so obvious a trap. When it really came down to it, if it meant giving her life to warn Sherlock about what Jim was doing, she didn't see it as that big of a sacrifice. She'd loved the man for as long as she could remember, and according to Jim, Sherlock had some sort of feelings for her as well. This whole ridiculous plan of his wouldn't work otherwise. And perhaps it still wouldn't work. Perhaps Sherlock wouldn't come for her at all. That seemed to be the best outcome. If she had to live the rest of her life as Jim's plaything to keep Sherlock safe, she supposed that was something she could do.

It wasn't long before she heard footsteps coming down the corridor right outside the room she was imprisoned in. There seemed to be two people racing toward the door. When it opened and light flooded the room, it took her eyes a moment to adjust. She looked up to find John Watson staring down at her.

“Sherlock!” He yelled, and she heard another hurried set of footsteps rush into the room. It was him. He'd actually come to save her.

“No...no you both have to leave, please.” She begged as Sherlock rushed over to her side. He worked hastily to untie her while she begged for him to stop. “Sherlock, John, both of you. Just leave. He's...he's going to...”

“Molly I don't mean to be rude, but please do shut up.” Sherlock snapped at her as he fumbled with her restraints. “John!” He yelled, giving up on the ropes and calling for John to do it instead. He took a knife from his pocket and cut the ropes that bound her hands, and then the ones around her ankles.

“You don't understand. Do you know who's behind this?”

“It's quite obvious that Moriarty is behind this.” Sherlock answered, watching the doorway as John helped Molly to her feet. “But he isn't here.”

“He was just in this room thirty minutes ago.”

“Well, thirty minutes is enough time for him to apparently rig the whole building with explosives and escape the premises.”

“Explosives?” Molly questioned, rubbing her wrist with her opposite hand.

“He no doubt told you that he would kill me, using you as bait to get me here. And if you tell me about his evil plan, you get the ax too. What he neglected to explain to you is that he meant for all of us to die to begin with. Moriarty is not such a compassionate man that he would let you live after telling you his plans. Now, if you don’t mind, I'm sure we don't have much more time before we're all blown to bits.” Sherlock came walking back toward her and grabbed her left wrist, pulling her with him quickly. She didn't realize that she was still being affected by whatever Jim gave her to knock her out until she went crashing to the ground. John managed to catch her before she fell, but he and Sherlock both looked at her with a considerable amount of worry on their faces. Without hesitating, Sherlock turned back and scooped her up, carefully carrying her out the door of the room she was in and practically running down the hallway. She looked over her shoulder to see that John had brandished his weapon, and was cautiously checking every room and corridor they passed by. John's military background was shining in this situation.

“How do you know we can make it out before the bomb goes off?” Molly asked, clinging to Sherlock's shoulders as they ran through empty corridors.

“I don't. I don't know how long we have, but I'm just counting on it being enough.” He answered as they found themselves walking into a large open room.

“Well well, seems you've found her after all.” A voice echoed down from higher up, the voice of Jim Moriarty. He was holding a gun, swinging it around haphazardly, not seeming to understand how big of a threat a gun could be.

“Moriarty.” Sherlock growled, and Molly could see the anger reflecting in his eyes. His grip on her tightened as if, somehow, holding on to her more tightly could keep her safe from Moriarty.

“Hello again, Sherlock. I knew you'd come for her. You thought I wasn't aware of your _feelings_ for her.” He drug the word out like it was the most disgusting thing to ever pass his lips.

“And as I thought, they've only put her in danger.”

“Well, you are right about that.” He smiled, and waved with the hand he held his gun in. “And hello to you too, Doctor Watson. It's been a while.”

“Yes, I recall the last time we met you tried to blow me up.” John answered, pointing his gun at Moriarty

“Not unlike this time.” Moriarty replied, pointing his gun directly at Sherlock and Molly. “It would be a pity if I had to kill you before the fireworks. I'm sure Sherlock at least would much rather go that way.”

“You don't know me as well as you might think.” Sherlock answered, placing Molly on her own two feet and stepping in front of her.

“Sherlock, please...” She started to protest, but Sherlock shot her a sidelong glance that seemed to tell her to be quiet.

“I thought she'd be a little more fun, but she's just boring, mousy Molly Hooper. She begged me not to kill you, you know.” Moriarty drug his index finger and the gun simultaneously down his face as if to simulate tears flowing. A mock frown on his face. “I nearly cried, it was so damned sweet. I thought she'd at least put up a little bit of a fight, but bringing her here was tooooo eaaaasyyyy.” He drug out his words and made a raspberry sound with his tongue. “No fun at all.”

“I suppose you're expecting us all to die here tonight?” Sherlock asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his belstaff.

“Myself included, probably, but isn't that just so fitting, that we would die together? After all, we are so alike, you and I.” Moriarty smiled, pointing the gun back at Sherlock.

“Sherlock is nothing like you!” Molly screamed from behind Sherlock. He'd said she was a mouse, but there were a few things about her that he didn't know. “Sherlock would never do the things that you do! He's good! He helps people! You just want to terrorize everyone and you think it's a game!”

“Oh, look who decided to be feisty.” Moriarty's lips curled into a devilish smile that sent a chill down her spine. “Seems that there are a few things that _you_ don't know about your beloved Sherlock.”

“You're pure evil, Sherlock would never do the things that you do. He would never kill someone for fun.” Molly's resolve was firm, but she questioned herself when she saw Sherlock pull a gun out of his pocket and point it toward Moriarty.

“Not for fun, per se. However, I can't say that I won't enjoy ending your life, Moriarty.” Sherlock released the safety on the gun and pulled back the hammer.

“Oh, goody, things are getting interesting now!” Moriarty exclaimed. “What will you do, Sherlock? Will you really shoot me? We both know how terribly bored you would be without me here to entertain you.”

“You're not entertainment.” Sherlock said, and Molly wondered if he actually meant it.

“Oh no? Well then, why don't you just go ahead and pull the trigger? How good of a shot is the consulting detective? How much experience have you had with weapons Sherlock?” Moriarty seemed to be taunting him. He wanted Sherlock to pull the trigger. He thinks this is a game.

“Sherlock, you don't have to kill him.” John said from the back of their three person party.

“How else do you presume we get out of here then, John?” Sherlock asked in a hushed tone, and John didn't have anything to say.

“Do it, Sherlock, you know you want to. Aren't you angry that I stole your precious little mouse away from you? Aren't you angry thinking about all the dirty things I must have done to her while she was unconscious?” Moriarty taunted again.

“Shut up.” Sherlock said, in a hushed tone.

“What's that?” Moriarty asked, putting his gun up against his ear as if it would help him hear better. “Can't quite hear you from all the way down there.”

“I said, shut up!” Sherlock was louder this time, and the gun in his hand twitched with the force of his words.

“Oh, it seems you are angry. Would you like me to go into detail? Molly doesn't remember any of it, in fact, I told her just today that I hadn't molested her in her sleep, but that wasn't completely true.” Molly could see Sherlock's knuckles turning white, he was holding the gun so tightly in his hands. She couldn't do anything but listen, and fear for the worst of what Moriarty was about to say. “She was just so sweet, sleeping there in front of me, and she was already tied up. I always have been one for bondage.”

“Say another word about her and I'll shoot you, I swear I will.” Sherlock said through gritted teeth. Everything about him screamed that he was telling the truth.

“Then you don't want to hear about how I unbuttoned her blouse just the smallest bit to take a look at those wonderful breasts she hides away under those baggy jumpers? If I would have known what a nice figure she had I would have taken advantage when I was calling myself her boyfriend.” He laughed and then BANG. BANG. Two loud shots rang out, almost too close together to tell apart. Molly hadn't meant to watch, but she saw Moriarty's brains splatter against the wall he'd been standing in front of. When her vision focused on Sherlock, he dropped to his knees.

“Sherlock!” She shouted, catching him as he fell back. “John, help him!”

“For Christ's sake Sherlock.” John said, panicked as he placed his gun back in the waistband of his trousers. Molly looked him over quickly, he hadn't been shot in the head, somehow Moriarty's aim must have been off, but his abdomen was gushing blood. John removed his jacket and used it to apply pressure to the wound and Sherlock gasped in pain.

“He...won't hurt you...Molly...” Sherlock rasped out as Molly cradled his head in her lap.

“Shh, don't talk, you'll only hurt yourself.” She said, tears threatening to stream down her face.

“John...bomb...” Sherlock sputtered again, coughing up a bit of blood that hung on his lips.

“Bloody hell.” John exclaimed. “Molly, we have to move him. If we don't get out of here we'll be dead.”

“Can he handle that?” Molly asked, brushing Sherlock's sweat drenched curls off of his forehead. His eyes kept fluttering, as if he were about to lose consciousness.

“He'll be in a considerable amount of pain, but if it means we all get out of here alive and can get him to hospital I'd say it will be worth it. I'll need your help. Put one of his arms around your shoulders, I'll get the other.” John ordered, and Molly did exactly as he said. Under normal circumstances, Molly wasn't sure she would have been able to help carry a man that couldn't support his own weight at all, but her adrenaline was pumping so hard through her veins it was as if she had some sort of super strength. They ran down corridors and through doorways as Sherlock ebbed in and out of consciousness. He was only ever awake for a few moments at a time before Molly would hear him gasping in pain and his head would drop back to his chest. It seemed like they were running for an eternity before they made it to the front door of the building they were in. They didn't get quite far enough away before the blast from the explosion knocked them all flat on their faces.

“M-Molly, are you alright?” She heard John's voice, strained as it was, from the other side of Sherlock. She'd sustained a number of scrapes and bruises, and her ears were ringing constantly, but she was alive.

“I'm fine.” She said, before turning Sherlock over so that she could see his face. She pressed her index finger to his neck, desperately feeling for a pulse. It was weak, but it was there. “Don t' worry about me. Call an ambulance! Call Lestrade! Please, John, we have to save him!” In the rush to get out of the building, no one had bothered to pick up the jacket that John had been using to put pressure on Sherlock's wound. Molly didn't have anything else, so she pressed her bare hands against the ever growing pool of blood on Sherlock's white dress shirt. If the bleeding doesn't stop soon...

“Oh, Sherlock...you can't die...not today. Please don't die.” Molly cried, tears running freely down her face now. She couldn't help it. Despite her best efforts, she never could hide the way she felt about this stupid man. He coughed and sputtered for a moment and tried to lift his head to look at her.

“M-Molly...Hooper...”

“Sherlock! I told you not to talk!” She cried, almost screaming at him.

“I...I...trust...you, and...John. You'll...save...” Sherlock was struggling to speak, and after she'd told him to stop, the daft man. Doesn't he know that she knows what's best for him in this situation?

“Sherlock, shut your damn trap already!” Molly yelled, and she swore she saw him smile.

“The ambulance is on it's way. It's not far. Hang in there, Sherlock.” John said, and Molly could see the concern on his face.

“Molly...bleeding...” Sherlock sputtered again. How many times would she have to tell him to shut up, for God's sake?

“Yes, Sherlock, you're bleeding quite a lot.” Molly answered.

“No...” He said, and reached a shaking, pale hand up to her face. She'd been so worried about him that she hadn't even thought about her own injuries.

“Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. You're the one I'm worried about.” She said just as the ambulance arrived. “Oh, thank God.”

The paramedics made quick work of getting Sherlock loaded onto a gurney and into the ambulance. They had IVs and oxygen on him before either John or Molly could blink.

“Please, can we go with him?” Molly begged, asking for John to come too. If the worst happened to Sherlock on the way to hospital...well, she wasn't sure what she would do if John wasn't there with her. One of the paramedics nodded to her and they all climbed into the back of the ambulance quickly. He wasn't quite stable, Molly knew that, but she was at least a little relieved that he was with people that had the equipment to nurse him to health.

“Molly...” She heard his voice faintly from underneath his oxygen mask.

“Yes, I'm right here, Sherlock.” She answered, taking his hand, even though hers were covered in his blood. “I'm right here.”

 

oOo

 

The wait was excruciatingly long. Molly and John had sat silently in the waiting room for so long after they'd arrived at hospital with Sherlock that Molly felt like she might never get to see Sherlock again. A thousand questions kept running through her head, and they threatened to drive her mad. When the doctor came through the double doors she sprang to her feet and practically ran over to him.

“How is he?” She asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“He's stable, but in a lot of pain. He's refusing medication.” The doctor said as if he didn't understand the reasoning.

“Probably for the best,” John chimed in. “he has a history of abuse.”

“Can I see him?” Molly asked, disregarding what John had just said.

“If you're Molly Hooper he's been insisting that we send you in to see him at once. We told him he should rest, but he isn't having it. Please just realize that he's in a tremendous amount of pain. To be honest I'm not sure how he's even conscious. He's in room three.”

“Thank you so much.” Molly said, looking back to John.

“Don't worry, you go in first, I'll wait here. Just knowing that he's okay is enough right now. Go and see him.” John reassured her and she didn't think twice about darting through the doors and running down the hall to find his room. When she arrived at the doorway she slowed her pace, creeping around the corner so that she wouldn't wake him if he was sleeping.

“Molly?” His voice was raspy and weak when he spoke, and she moved to his side without hesitation.

“Sherlock,” She smiled down at him, happy to see him alive. “how are you feeling?”

“Like I've been shot in the abdomen and then had a load of doctors prodding around inside me to get the bullet out. Honestly, it would have been better if it would have gone straight through.” He talked slowly, but just the fact that he could speak to her so clearly made her happy. Before the ambulance came he could barely form whole sentences.

“I’m glad you're alright.” Molly smiled, and a tear ran down her cheek.

“What about you? Have the doctors taken a look?”

“No, I'm fine. It's just a few scrapes, nothing serious.”

“Molly, you should have a rape kit performed.” He said seriously, his voice taking on a dark, dangerous tone. “Who knows what he did to you while you couldn't fight back. Just the things that he described before...” He trailed off, not willing to admit to himself that he'd killed Moriarty.

“I'm sure I'm fine, Sherlock.” Molly reassured him, even though she wasn't completely sure that she was. She just didn't want him to be worried about her.

“Please, Molly, just do it for me. You're on some form of contraceptive, correct?”

“Y-yes.” She sputtered, a little uncomfortable talking about this sort of thing with him.

“Good, at least that will prevent an unwanted pregnancy.” He coughed a bit and winced in pain, his right hand moving to his stomach where he'd been shot. “Of course, if that was the case, I would help you through everything. I'm sure you wouldn't want to keep the product of a rape, so I would be sure that the child went to a good home after birth.”

“Sherlock, aren't you planning a little far ahead?” Molly asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I want to make sure that you're safe and happy, Molly. The whole bloody reason I went there to rescue you is because I...” He stopped short, glancing up at her and reaching for her hand. He smoothed his thumb over their joined hands and looked down at them before affixing his gaze on her again. His blue-green eyes captivated her as he spoke. “Nothing bad will ever happen to you again because...because I think I might love you, Molly.”

“Love...me...?”

“Yes, I'd just been considering my feelings for you. Over the course of the past week, actually. I knew I enjoyed coming to your lab, and at first I thought that was just because you let me beat the bodies with riding crops and gave me things to experiment on, but I recently came to realize that I kept coming back there because of you. Because I enjoy being in your company, and because I don't think I could go a single day without seeing you.”

“I know that you've known this for, possibly as long as we've known each other, but I love you too, Sherlock. I've loved you for so long I don't remember what it's like to love anyone else. It's sad really, how long I've waited for this moment. If you weren't already so hurt I'd slap you right across your face, you git.” Molly said with mock irritation.

“Yes yes, I'm a complete idiot.” Sherlock laughed and flinched a bit. “Now that this whole admission of mutual love is over with, can you promise me something?”

“What's that?”

“From now on when you work late in your lab, tell me ahead of time so that I can stay with you. You are not allowed to be kidnapped again. Understood?”

“Understood.” She said leaning closer to him. He reached over and pressed the button that would cause his bed to move up, lifting his face closer to hers. It hurt, but he didn't care. All he wanted was to kiss her. After all these years. After all his neglected feelings, he just wanted to seal his confession of love with a kiss so that Molly Hooper could never say that he didn't mean every word he said to her just now. His brow furrowed as he battled through the pain, and Molly stood giggling at his side as she closed the small distance between them, placing a tender kiss on his lips. If he'd been in better condition, he might have made the kiss a bit more rough, a bit more urgent, but he knew that he would only hurt himself.

“Now, you promise me something.” Molly said as she pulled away.

“I'm listening.”

“Don't put yourself in such danger for me ever again. You could have died!”

“I can't promise you that. I'll do whatever I need to do to protect you.”

“Well then at least promise me that you won't go blowing people's heads to pieces anymore.”

“I think I can live with that.” Sherlock agreed, and from that point on he knew that there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for his pathologist, and he knew she felt the same about him.


End file.
